


the hardest part of this (is leaving you)

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Stargazing, dan dies in the end, oops? sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dan Howell is dying. He has terminal cancer, and is living out his last few months in a hospice care facility. But, when he starts a relationship and falls in love with his hospice nurse, Phil, it becomes all too hard to say goodbye.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for a fic with a happy ending, this isn't for you. if you're looking for a fic that is light and fluffy and happy, this isn't for you. dan is literally going to die at the end. you've been warned

Dan was dying.

 

Or, that’s what his doctors told him once the cancer that he thought was totally wiped out came back. Something he learned after way too many hospital stays and chemo treatments was that cancer is one hell of a bitch. And that bitch was going to inevitably kill him.

 

Dan was dying, but it didn’t feel like he was. Granted, he did have terminal cancer, but he felt like he always did. It felt as if nothing had changed, minus the fact that he was moved to a hospice care facility. His doctors said that he should be ‘somewhere comfortable’ for his last few months of life, so they sent him here. 

 

It wasn’t all bad; he got all the food he wanted and a super cute care nurse named Phil (whom he flirted with often, and had a thing with that he didn’t really know how to define) who was there for him 24/7. He never had to be afraid of being lonely or never having anyone to talk to, so he could ignore the fact that he was in hospice. Y’know, the place where people go when they’re dying. 

 

Hey, at least he had Phil. 

 

They’d grown very close in the last few months of Dan’s residence, to the point where Dan would look forward to seeing and talking to him. To call it a crush would be an understatement; this was like his mind going ‘go for it you dumbass!’ because it knew he wasn’t ever going to get another chance. But Phil seemed like someone special, someone he waited for his whole life. They joked, and laughed, and never ran out of things to talk about. 

 

Man, cancer was a  _ bitch. _

 

* * *

 

Phil walked into Dan’s room, holding the clipboard to his chest and smiling at him as soon as he closed the door. “Here to check everything,” he said, grabbing a blood pressure cuff from the bureau. 

 

“I know.” Dan smirked, sitting up and stretching, letting his arm go loose and outstretching it to Phil. “Morning, hot stuff.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Dan’s bicep, taking his stethoscope off of his neck. Typical incessant flirting, though he wasn’t innocent of it himself. Once Dan noticed the little rainbow pin that he wore on his scrubs, it was a never ending battle of winks and chaste flirty remarks. And that was from week  _ one. _

 

Phil pressed the stethoscope to Dan’s chest, puffing up the cuff and measuring his heartbeat, the dial on the cuff springing to life.

 

“Blood pressure’s normal,” he remarked as soon as it was finished puffing, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and slinging it around his neck again. “How are you feeling?”

 

Dan shrugged and sat back on his bed, folding his arms across his chest. “The same as I always do. Just fine, minus, yknow, the cancer.”

 

Phil chuckled and leaned against the wall, nodding. “Maybe we could take a walk in a few? I hear the fresh air’s good for you.” He mimicked Dan’s posture, his own arms folded now. 

 

Dan blushed at him, flickering his eyes over his face, his heart starting to pound. Their walks were always flirtatious and giddy; they’d hold hands, and talk, and ignore the world for a while. God, if the cancer wouldn’t kill him, Phil would. “That sounds perfect.”

 

Phil flashed a smirk and winked at him, writing down everything on his clipboard and nodding. “I’ll be back for you in a few hours,” he turned around to the door, leaning on the frame.

 

“Don’t be too long.” Dan retorted, flinging the bedcovers back onto himself. Phil shook his head and walked out of his room, chuckling, the door clicking behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Missed you last night.” Dan said, the breeze making his curls flutter against his forehead. Phil snickered.

 

“I stayed with you until 11:30! How could you have missed me?”

 

Dan shrugged and leaned in closer to him, their shoulders nearly brushing. “I dunno. I just did, I guess.” 

 

Phil kept his gaze straight ahead, but the hand that was near Dan’s side crept over to him. 

 

Their fingers brushed, like they always did, and Dan’s heart dropped. Like it always did. He would never get sick of Phil’s hand reaching out for his, confirming their  _ ‘I love you and we both know it’  _ attitude to one another without saying a word. 

 

Mostly because both of them were too afraid of saying it out loud. Too afraid of the repercussions. Too afraid to know that this wouldn’t be able to last forever. 

 

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand as soon as their fingers laced together. “I missed you too.” He whispered, beginning to walk off of the normal trail that patients took. 

 

They had their own little route, where no one went, except for them. No one to see their little flirty jokes, or their hand holding, or anything else they decided to do. People knew, of course, it wasn’t hard to spot. But having a little place to themselves was always nice.

 

Dan stuck his free hand into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. “Stargazing tonight?” He asked, turning his head to Phil. “We haven’t done it in a while.”

 

Phil nodded and laughed. “Sure, am I bringing snacks again?”

 

Dan looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Duh.”

 

After a long round of chemo at the one hospital Dan was staying in, he challenged himself to memorize the constellations. From Orion to Cassiopeia, he could point out any series of stars in the sky, invisible lines not required. So, naturally, he’d get outside and test his knowledge anytime he could. Phil being there with him was just a very, very nice bonus. Impressing a cute boy with your unusually extensive knowledge about stars was always great. 

 

Especially when it was at night, when it was dark, and no one was watching him and that said cute boy.

* * *

 

“That one’s Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor is right next to it,” Dan said, arm up, pointing to the sky. 

 

“They look like the big and little dippers.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, that’s a part of them. But the dippers are part of their own bigger constellation.” He said, arm now returning back down, hand on his stomach.

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

Dan clicked his tongue. “It’s not like I studied this for weeks or anything.”

 

Phil laughed, his tongue poking out from his teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He sighed after a few minutes of giggling. “Hey, Dan?”

 

Dan turned his head to him. “Yeah?”

 

“What are we?”

 

For the second time that day, Dan’s heart dropped. “I, I don’t know,” he stuttered, stumbling over his words, “what do you want us to be?”

 

Phil shrugged. “Together.” He said, eyes moving over him. Surge of confidence, he supposed. He realized what he’d said a few moments later. “That, that sounds so stupid, I’m sorry,” He apologized, sitting up, shaking his head. “Ignore me.”

 

Dan shot up, shaking his own head. “No, no, I-“ He looked down, hugging himself. “I think I feel the same.”

 

Phil looked over to him, cheeks flooding with color. He chewed on his bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, leaning in closer to him.

 

Dan had cancer, but he was starting to think Phil really  _ was  _ going to kill him. “Please.”

 

Phil’s lips were warm, and soft, and tasted like the strawberry chapstick he kept in his breast pocket. It was so much better than Dan could’ve ever imagined, because it was real, and Phil’s hands were in his hair, and it made him feel alive for the first time in so long that the feeling almost didn’t register. 

 

Dan was dying, but at least he had something to live for. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Rise and shine, buttercup.”

 

Phil opened up the blinds, the morning sunshine streaming in through the glass. He had the blood pressure cuff in his hand, the stethoscope slung around his neck. Everyday procedure; nothing he could do about it.

 

Dan groaned and rolled over, covering his head with the pillow, trying desperately to keep the light from getting to him. “Go away..” He groaned, voice muffled by the pillow under him. 

 

Phil clucked his tongue and let himself smirk, walking around the bed to Dan’s right side, taking a seat on the chair beside him. “Aw, c’mon. You aren’t happy to see me this morning, love?”

 

He flipped over, his eyes narrow, staring at Phil out of the corners of them. “I hate you,” He mumbled, cringing from the excess light. He sat up, trying not to complain about his overly sore joints. Cancer just, does that. Well, cancer paired with laying in the same position.

 

Phil unraveled the blood pressure cuff and hooked it around Dan’s bicep, setting the stethoscope in his ears. “Sure you do,” his free hand pumped the cuff, “that’s why you kissed me.”

 

Dan’s heart skipped a beat at the sentence, and the memories washed over him as if they were a warm blanket. Them sitting in the grass, Phil’s hands on him, their lips pressed together hesitantly. Well, it became not so hesitant quickly. It was desperate, and beautiful, and nothing like Dan had ever experienced. They kissed like that for an hour, just laying there, together.

 

His eyes made their way up to Phil’s, skimming past his hands and shoulders before finally landing on the sea of blue that he could stare at forever. He’d swim in those eyes if he could. “I’d do it again, too.” He kept his voice quiet, meant for Phil, and only Phil, to hear. “Kiss you, I mean. Or, whatever else you have in mind.”

 

Phil’s eyes lifted themselves from Dan’s arm and traveled downward, drifting to his face and staring at it intently. He parted his lips to say something, but wasn’t sure what to say. His cheeks saturated with a soft rosy pink, and he diverted his gaze. 

 

“Blood pressure’s normal,” He scribbled a few numbers on the clipboard, standing up from the chair. He still hadn’t acknowledged Dan’s comment. 

 

Dan’s heart skipped a beat again, but for all the wrong reasons. He tried to hide his trembles, and his eyes now carefully avoided Phil entirely. “Did, did I ruin it?” He asked, voice still low, head bowed so his view was his lap. He didn’t want to be looking at Phil if the answer was the heart-wrenching one he was thinking of.

 

Phil wound the cuff back up again, shaking his head. “No,” he turned around, stepping closer to Dan again, “I was just too flustered to say anything.” 

 

He set his thumb and forefinger on Dan’s chin and slowly lifted it, watching Dan’s eyes flicker up from his lap to Phil’s face. “I want to kiss you again, too.” He pressed their lips together, keeping them there long enough to get a taste, but short enough to leave them both yearning for more. “And I intend to. Over and over, as long as you live.” 

 

Dan breathed out, leaning into him and letting their foreheads touch. “Where have you been all my life?” He whispered, keeping his eyes on him as Phil pulled away and stepped back toward the door. He wouldn’t dare take them away. Phil shrugged. 

 

“Right here, baby. All you had to do was find me.”

 

Dan chuckled and rolled his eyes, settling back down into his bed. “All I had to do was get cancer.” 

 

Phil paused at the door, the comment replaying in his head, over and over. He blinked back to reality a few seconds later. “I’ll come back later, we’ll take a walk.”

 

Dan stared at the back of his head, sliding down in his bed, the sheets ruffling behind him. “Yeah, alright. That sounds fine to me.”

 

Phil walked out of the room without another word.

 

* * *

 

Dan hated doctor’s appointments. He hated the waiting room, how bleak and quiet it was, how alone he felt sitting in the upholstered chair under him. He hated it all.

 

He  _ especially  _ hated the examining room they brought him to. The sterile white surroundings, the tests and measurements and poking and prodding and the millions of questions they asked him. He hated it, and would give anything to just be normal instead of having to go to the doctor’s every other week. 

 

Dan swung his legs mindlessly on the examining table, his doctor walking into the room and clicking the door shut.

 

“I have your test results back,” He began, sitting down in a rolling plush stool.

 

Dan looked over him, studying his every little twitch and mannerism. He was a lanky man; wisps of grey hair littered around his jaw and atop his head, mingled in with dark brown. Thin-framed glasses sat on the edge of his nose. The corners of his eyes had faint traces of laugh lines, and for a moment, Dan was jealous of them. “And?”

 

The man sucked in his bottom lip, opening up the manila colored folder and looking over the words on the papers, as if double checking for an error. “It’s spread.” 

 

Dan went rigid, but remained stoic on the outside. “Where?”

 

The man looked over the papers again, his eyes moving over the lines rapidly. “Your liver, kidneys, and lungs.”

 

Dan closed his eyes as if, somehow, when he opened them, he’d be somewhere else. That this was all just a bad dream, and he’d wake up somewhere new, somewhere where this wasn’t his reality. His grip on the edge of the table tightened. “How long do I have?”

 

The man closed the folder and set his glasses down on the desk beside him. “Because it’s late-stage cancer and now late-stage metastatic, anywhere from two to five months.”

 

Dan could feel his chest becoming heavy, the tears flooding up through him. He’d cry but not here. Not now. He’d save it for later, when he wasn’t in front of a doctor.

 

“We’ll keep you on your medication regimen but, at this point, chemo and radiation would most likely do nothing.” 

 

He nodded and crossed his ankles, finally opening his eyes after what seemed like an eternity. He fixed them on the floor below him. It was tile, marbled with blue and purple speckles, and it gleamed from the harsh overhead white lights. 

 

Dan was silent on his way back to his room.

 

* * *

 

“Which one is that?” Phil asked, staring up at the sky, tracing the stars with his index finger.

 

“Orion.” Dan answered shortly, his hands laid flat on his chest. His mind was somewhere else, drifting off somewhere that wasn’t  _ there _ . Phil turned his head to him.

 

“Something’s off,” He began, turning over, holding his head up with one hand. “What’s up, love?”

 

The sound of Phil’s voice sucked him back. Dan came crashing back down to earth, back on the grass with Phil, back under the stars. He craned his head to the side so he could face him. 

 

“I had a doctor’s appointment today.”

 

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And?”

 

Dan didn’t want to look at him when he said it. He turned his head back and closed his eyes again, like he’d done earlier. “It’s everywhere, Phil. Everywhere.” 

 

Dan could feel it again. Rising up through him, taunting him, laying at the precipice of spilling out, all over his cheeks. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

 

He let out one stifled, choked sob, and that’s all it took.

 

Phil sat up hurriedly, pulling Dan toward him, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. He held the back of Dan’s head delicately, running his fingers through his curls. 

 

“It’s not fair,” Dan wept into Phil’s chest, voice muffled and stuffy. “It’s not fair, Phil.”

 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that something like this was to happen after he started to feel alive. Dan didn’t care about dying before, but now, now he had something to live for. He had something to look forward to, something worth waking up for every morning. It was as if his cancer knew that he felt like he was actually  _ living _ for once, and had ruined it on purpose. 

 

Phil rocked him back and forth, slowly, Dan’s tears beginning to soak through his scrubs. “I’m right here,” he cooed, trying to hold back his own tears, “I’ll be right with you through it all. I promise.”

 

Dan sniffled, turning his head on Phil’s chest, arms draped loosely around his middle. His bottom lip trembled, a few late tears dripping down his red cheeks. “I don’t want to go, Phil.” He breathed, his throat tight and his eyes still incessantly watery. “I don’t want to leave you.”

 

Phil had honestly forgotten that Dan had cancer. That Dan had  _ terminal cancer _ . That he’d fallen in love with him and was going to have to watch him die. He couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of Dan.

 

“I don’t want you to go either, Dan.” 

 

It was a miracle Phil had gotten that out without breaking. He was on the brink of it, sure, but his nerves kept it down for now.

 

Dan stuffed his face back into Phil’s chest and tried to memorize the way his arms felt wrapped around him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thanks for keeping up with my fics :> i've been taking a little break from fandom things lately, but i'm slowly coming back. just a heads up: chapters might be a bit short, but i'd much prefer something shorter and good than forcing myself to write something long and not very good. hope you understand and thank you so much for reading and supporting my fics!

The words  _ two to five months  _ haunted Dan. It was as if it weren’t real, that if he didn’t think about it, it would never come. 

 

Two to five months didn’t sound real. It sounded like an expiration date. 

 

What could he do in two to five months? He was bound to the hospice care, so traveling  _ somewhere  _ other than there was out. He’d never be able to have the experience of seeing the world that would be robbed from him because of the stupid  _ fucking  _ cancer. He wouldn’t be able to do anything because of the stupid fucking cancer. 

 

Why him? Why couldn’t it just be someone else? Someone who had lived a long, full life; had accomplished everything they wanted to do. Dan was young, barely 28, he still had,  _ everything,  _ ahead of him. Birthdays and anniversaries and laughter and  _ life _ . All gone in two to five months.

 

Many people told him to try and make the most out of it, try and live life as best as he could.  _ ‘You could outlive the prognosis’ _ they’d say, trying to cheer him up,  _ ‘you could live way past five months’ _ . 

 

Dan appreciated their optimism, but he knew the truth. Even if he did outlive his prognosis, he wouldn’t live much longer after. His days would still be limited.

 

And now, how was he expected to love Phil when it was to be so limited? To know that the  _ thing  _ between them was to be so limited and fleeting just, was too painful for Dan to think about. When he thought about being with Phil, he thought of forever; he saw a house and a dog and everything a person would want when they imagined a life with the person they loved.

 

Stupid  _ fucking  _ cancer. 

 

Now he had to make plans to leave the best thing that ever happened to him. How bittersweet was that? The second he found something that actually made him want to fight the affliction, it decided to get worse. Almost as if it just,  _ knew,  _ somehow. 

 

Phil laid next to him in his bed, silent, his hands clasped together in his lap. Neither of them had spoken yet, the sound of their breaths being the only thing (besides them, of course) occupying the room. It was like they were afraid to speak.

 

Because they were. Or, Phil was anyway. He was terrified.

 

Phil didn’t know whether he should bring it up, or talk about it; all he knew was that it was weighing on him. He wasn’t the one with the cancer, obviously, but—he did fall in love with Dan. And now, now he had to watch him slowly deteriorate, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

 

As a hospice nurse, as depressing as it sounds, he was used to it. He was used to seeing death often. It wasn’t something that particularly bothered him; after the first few months, he grew accustomed to it. Though there were a few patients he grew rather close with, and a few children that were particularly hard to say goodbye to, death wasn’t something that really affected him with his job.

 

But this, this was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever have to deal with. He’d known Dan for nearly a year now. Phil befriended him quickly, and they’d been flirting incessantly for months, until now. Until their love blossomed into this. Blossomed into something so beautiful, but was to be gone so soon.

 

“Dan?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

Phil picked at the corners of his fingernails, his thumb rubbing into his palm. “You know I’m here for you, right?”   
  
Dan kept his eyes fixated on the ceiling, eyes darting over the mottled white tiles. “I know,” He said, turning his head to the side, eyes now on Phil. “Thank you.”

 

Phil did the same, managing a small smile, nodding. “Of course.”

 

Dan shook his head and looked down, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “No, really, thank you.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to suppress the tears and the lump in his throat. “My mum called me today crying, and… and I didn’t know how to deal with it.” He breathed out, shakily, wiping the few tears that escaped. “It’s like I spent so long preparing for this, but, in the end I was never ready.”

 

He looked back up at Phil, eyes sparkling with tears, his bitten and pink lips quivering. “And I’m trying to stay optimistic but, I don’t know how.”

 

Phil immediately pulled him closer to him, lips pressed to his forehead. “Listen, Dan,” he began, clearing his throat, trying not to cry himself, “life’s not fair. If there’s anyone who understands that, it’s you. But, you’re going to make the best out of it.  _ We’re  _ going to make the best out of it, okay? Together.” He said, pulling Dan away for a moment. “This is shitty beyond belief, and believe me, it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I’m not going to leave your side for a moment of it. I promise.”

 

Dan smiled wobbly through his misty eyes, cheeks now all red and wet. “God, I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he breathed out, sniffling, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve, “but if it’s the universe’s payback for the stupid goddamned cancer, I’ll gladly take it.”

 

Phil chuckled, pecking his lips and rubbing over his back softly. “We’re gonna try and do anything you want to do.” He said. “And I’ll be right here with you.”

 

Dan dove in for a hug, squeezing him tightly, burying his head into Phil’s shoulder. “I love you.” He said, voice muffled.

 

Phil settled down onto the bed and relaxed again, holding Dan snug against him. “I love you too,” he whispered. “More than you know.”

 

* * *

 

They fell asleep like that, holding each other tightly, legs tangled together. Dan’s curls messily spilt onto Phil’s chest, and Phil’s arm slung loosely over his shoulders, his breaths making Dan rise and fall gently. Sunshine spewed out into the room through the window that Phil had forgotten to close, the light hitting their lower bodies; a soft yellow glow. Phil wasn’t  _ really  _ supposed to be sleeping with patients like this but, fuck it.

 

Phil was the first to stir, taking his time to lift his head up. He moved his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes groggily, groaning inaudibly. His vision adjusted to the room, and Dan moved beside him.

 

“What time is it?” He asked, voice low and dripping with sleepiness. 

 

“Eight-thirty,” Phil replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, stretching out his arms. 

 

Dan rolled his body over to face him, sitting up on his elbow, running his fingers through his now unruly and heavily knotted curls. “You didn’t have to stay with me last night.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and stood up from the bed, brushing the night before off of his cerulean scrubs. “I’m your primary care nurse, it’s my job.” He turned around and leaned down, their lips connecting for a moment. “I’m also your kinda-boyfriend-but-not-definite-boyfriend so, I would have anyway.”

 

Dan smirked through his tiredness, eyes fixed up at Phil. “Oh, you’re my definite boyfriend.”

 

Phil stood back up again, making sure his pockets had everything they needed. “Good to know.”

 

Dan leaned back against the eggshell pillows, watching Phil walk out of his room, presumably to get breakfast. Or a stethoscope. Or, just, something. 

 

Definite boyfriend had a nice ring to it. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was around 3 am one night when Dan woke up and couldn’t breathe.

 

He struggled to find his breath for five minutes, exhaling in deeply but choking halfway. It was as if his body refused to acknowledge that he was _trying_ to breathe, like there was some sort of invisible force keeping him from completing the task. His hands grabbed at his chest, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, trying to find some grip on the pain he felt in his ribs. He scrambled in his bed, desperately leaning over to the side and slamming the help button on the table, his vision beginning to blur. He grew more and more dizzy and disoriented by the second.

 

A nurse rushed to his bedside, calling for an ambulance as she was trying her best to keep Dan from panicking further.

 

The nurse wasn’t Phil. Dan had told him that he should go home and sleep for the night, that he’d be fine without him for a single night. He couldn’t bear the thought of the phone call Phil would have to answer soon.

 

He was taken from his bed to a stretcher by rushed EMTs, an oxygen mask fitted over his mouth, the stretcher being moved into a blaring ambulance before his body even registered that it could breathe.

 

The paramedics talked to him, testing his vitals, making sure he was alert. Though, for the most part, Dan didn’t really comprehend what they were asking him. He could hear them speak, but the words became jumbled and undistinguishable. The neon lights of the ambulance shone onto the trees, drowning the leaves and the bark in a cacophony of red and white.

 

The bright, blinding lights of the hospital corridor ceiling illuminated over Dan’s face, his eyes half-lidded and barely open. He glanced over at the people rolling his stretcher across the tile; nurses, he figured, maybe even the paramedics.

 

He was transferred to a hospital bed, quickly being pricked with a flurry of blood tests and reflex activities. The phone call was finally given to Phil.

 

Dan, even through the near silence of the nurse’s receiver, could practically hear Phil’s franticness. The overly fatigued voice, the insurmountable number of questions he was inevitably asking. He swore he could hear Phil jump up from his bed and pull his shoes on.

 

The hospital replaced the oxygen mask with a nasal cannula, the transparent tubes stretching around his face and tucking themselves over his ears, looping down his chest. If he didn’t look like he was dying before, he sure did now.

 

He knew the moment when Phil arrived, like it was a fine-tuned instinct he could just feel. He heard the anxious pattering of Phil’s feet as they scudded across the hospital tile, his sneakers bouncing off of the floor in a near run.

 

Dan could hear Phil’s voice at the nurse’s check in, muffled by the distance from the room, the desperation and tiredness falling from his lips.

 

Phil peeked into Dan’s room, gripping a medium sized cup of coffee, his fingers tapping over the sides. He could tell Phil had been crying, his eyes puffy and dotted with broken blood vessels underneath.

 

“G-God, Dan,” He breathed, sitting down beside the bed, throwing his hand onto Dan’s lap and lacing their fingers together. The coffee was placed on the little table beside Dan’s bed, out of mind, “Don’t scare me like that.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes, chuckling, curling his lips into a weary grin. He weakly squeezed Phil’s hand. “Sorry.” He apologized, head lolled to the side so he could look at him. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

 

Phil clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes in retortion. “You are,” He said, lifting Dan’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Thank goodness.”

 

The door to the room opened, a swirl of cream-colored lab coat settling in a rolling stool across from the bed. The woman slid a sleek, silver pen behind her ear, moving her hair behind it. “Hello, we’ve received your lab results back,” she typed on the computer in front of her, keys clicking with every movement of her fingers.

 

Dan examined her closely, reading the little ‘Dr. Williams’ on her breast pocket, noticing the fading eyeliner in the corners near her lashes, the subtle shine on her lips from strawberry chapstick. “And?”

 

The woman cleared her throat and crossed her legs, setting her hands down on her knees. “The cancer that has spread to your lungs has progressed, and it seems that you’ll need the cannula to breathe normally.”

 

If he wasn’t inhibited, he would’ve sighed out, deeply. “Is there anything else?”

 

She shook her head and typed a few lines into the computer before standing up, her kitten heels clicking on the floor. “We’ll be adding another medication onto your regimen to help with the breathing.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes. “Yippee,” he tried not to sound overly enthused. “Another pill.”

 

The doctor gathered her things, shutting down the computer and grabbing a few papers. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ring.”

 

She’d left without another word, and Dan finally slouched back into his bed.

 

“Well, hey, the good thing is that medication may help-“

 

“Phil,” Dan squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry, for both of their sakes. “Stop. Just, say this sucks, because it does.” He opened his eyes back up, throat beginning to tighten. “The only ‘good thing’ about this, is the fact that you’re here.” He leaned his hand into Phil’s, fingertips rubbing over his knuckles. “That is the only single good thing about this.”

 

Phil stared at him for a long time. He held his gaze at Dan’s face, studying everything from his starry, celestial eyes to his curly hair that stuck to his forehead. He stared at Dan, trying his best to get the image of him, this image of him, ingrained into himself as best as he could. As if it were the last time he’d ever look at him.

 

“What can I do, Dan?”

 

Dan shrugged and let his head roll to his shoulder, not quite wanting to lay on his side just yet. “I don’t know,” he breathed out, still trying not to weep. “I don’t know what you can do anymore, Phil. I don’t think there _is_ anything you can do.”

 

Phil pursed his lips together, eyes falling to the floor, clenching his jaw. He kept his head down for a while, thinking, not wanting Dan to see the fear in his eyes. “I just feel helpless.”

 

_‘You feel helpless?’_ Dan thought, flickering his eyes over Phil’s bowed head. _‘I’m the one who’s dying here.’_ Phil lifted his gaze but purposely kept his eyes from Dan’s, parting his lips to speak.

 

“I hate just, sitting here, and not being able to help you. Not being able to take this away.”

 

Dan cocked an eyebrow and squeezed Phil’s hand again. “Phil, you’re… it’s your job, you see people like me all day.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and and finally let himself look at Dan again. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight, to never let him go. “You’re not just part of my job, though.” His voice was quieter, barely above a whisper. If he spoke any louder, he was going to break. “You’re my boyfriend. Someone I love.”

 

Dan kept his facial expression stoic. “So you never realized the true horrors of cancer until now?”

 

Phil shook his head. “No, I realized them when I started the job.” The tears that had been brewing in him began to fall, and he lazily wiped them from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I just always separated my emotions from my job and, and now that they’re intertwining, I..” He took a deep breath, shaking halfway, ignoring the tears that replaced the ones he wiped. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone, Dan.”

 

Dan swallowed thickly, chest growing heavy. “Maybe we should break up before I, y’know..”

 

Phil shook his head quickly, pressing Dan’s hand to his cheek. “Absolutely not.” He said, leaning into him. “Absolutely not. If one thing is not going to happen, it’s that.” He said, cupping Dan’s cheek with his palm, his thumb rubbing over him. “And don’t ask me if I’m sure, because I absolutely, one-hundred percent am.”

 

Dan leaned into his hand and sniffled, closing his eyes, letting himself cry.

 

“I’m with you until the end, Dan, and that’s not an argument.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dan sat on the examination table, his feet not quite touching the ground. He’d been in his doctor’s office three times this week, just to make sure that the cannula was working normally and that his medication was helping. Newsflash: it was working, but not in the way Dan wished it would.

 

It was working in the way that it alleviated and numbed some of the pain he’d been experiencing, but in terms of the cancer? It was nothing. There was no hope on that end. 

 

His doctor was sat in his chair, the wheels squeaking under it, the black upholstery of the seat beginning to fade in the middle from years of use. Dan wondered how many patients that chair had seen. How many it had seen, and then go.

 

He wondered when he’d ultimately be the next to go.

 

“Okay, Mr. Howell, that just about does it,” the man slid the metallic pen that was situated between his fingers back into his lab coat breast pocket. “Let me know if anything with your medication changes, and we’ll see you next Tuesday.”

 

Dan slid off of the table, his shoes hitting the floor with a heavy, harsh thud. “Thanks,” he replied, shortly, barely even managing to glance at the man. “See you Tuesday.”

 

He wondered how many people had sat on that examination table, and knew they were to die.

 

Dan walked down the sterile corridor back to his room, shuffling his feet along the way, listening to the low metallic rumbling of his oxygen tank wheeling behind him. 

 

He debated pulling his phone from his jean pocket and calling Phil, but he figured he’d be busy. 6 pm on a weekday, the other residents were surely occupying his time with meal requests and blanket changes.

 

He turned the door handle to his bedroom slowly, kicking the door open and taking a moment before registering why his room was dark, and filled with candles.

 

He stepped in, looking around for a few moments, blinking as if in disbelief. “What.. What’s all this?”

 

Phil waved at him from the bed, throwing his legs over the side of it so he could stand. “It’s a date.” He grabbed a bouquet of flowers from the table.

 

They were roses, bright, crimson roses, but they were far from boring red roses. They were all perfect, petals perfectly symmetrical, the stems held together tightly with a navy ribbon. They were perfect because they came from  _ Phil. _

 

No one had ever gotten Dan flowers before.

 

“Thank you,” He breathed, choking back happy tears, taking the flowers and running his fingers over the smooth fabric of the ribbon. He looked back up, and noticed that Phil wasn’t dressed in his scrubs. He looked nice, put together; dark skinny jeans, shoes that weren’t his work sneakers, and a quirky sweater that only Phil could own.

 

“Why did you do all of this?” Dan asked, setting the flowers down on his bed, wiping the little tear that trickled from his eyelashes with the back of a finger.

 

Phil shrugged, wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist, pulling him closer and taking Dan’s hands. “Because you deserve a proper date.” 

 

Dan pressed his head into Phil’s shoulder, letting out a sigh. He began to sway, noticing the quiet music playing in the background. “Was it your plan all along to dance?”

 

Phil chuckled above him, laying his cheek on Dan’s head delicately. “Maybe.” He drew out the ‘may’ part, his voice going a few octaves higher for a moment. “Is that okay?”

 

Dan nodded and looked up at him, leaning in to peck his lips. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

 

Phil squeezed his hands and leaned up, kissing Dan’s forehead. “Anything for you.”

 

They danced in silence for a while. Dan couldn’t quite figure out what song was quietly playing in the background, leading them around the room, but he didn’t care. He could be dancing with Phil to the most obscure music on the planet and he wouldn’t care. He was dancing, with Phil.

 

He was dancing with Phil, and it gave him an opportunity to try and remember the feeling of being so close to him. The warmth of his body, the softness of his hands; the feeling of his lips against his skin. He tried to remember everything.

 

“How’d you pull this off?”

 

Phil shrugged and chuckled, pushing Dan away for a moment to twirl him before pulling him right back. “I asked all of the nurses to help me prepare it, get the candles and everything.” He began. “Then I got the flowers, and let everyone know to not bother this room for the evening.”

 

Dan smiled against Phil’s chest and laughed softly. “I was finally busy with something that wasn’t a checkup or medication administration.” He looked back up and sighed again, his eyes closing halfway as he looked at Phil. “Thank you. For this.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head, moving a curl out of Dan’s face, tucking it snugly behind his ear. “Don’t thank me.” He said. “I was more than happy to do it. You more than deserve it.”

 

Dan flashed him a smile, pressing his head back down to his chest. The moment Phil could no longer see his face, the smile cracked and faded. His half lidded eyes stared at the wall across from him. “I wish I could be able to do this more.”

 

Phil’s heart clenched. He knew it was coming, it always did, but for some reason, he hoped it wouldn’t be a concern tonight. He hoped that maybe, for one night, the horrible reality would be forgotten, if even just for a moment.

 

Though, that was the curse of cancer. No matter what Phil did, it changed nothing. Dan was still dying. And these would be his last memories, his last experiences. Dan couldn’t help thinking about it because he was  _ constantly living it.  _ There was no escape. He was cursed with the knowledge that, with every little thing he did, it very well may be the last time. That curse made even superficial things like brushing his teeth seem like a blessing.

 

Dan didn’t know when the song ended, but eventually they stopped dancing. “Are you staying with me tonight?”

 

“Would you like me to?”

 

He nodded.

 

They both sat down on Dan’s bed, and nearly without another word, sleep rushed over them. 

 

Sometimes, sleep was a blessing to this awful curse. 


	6. Chapter 6

Phil strolled into Dan’s room, and was affronted with Dan, but also a man. Sitting beside him in a chair, next to the bed.

 

Dan had a heavy blanket draped over him, his eyes struggling to stay open, his chest straining for breath. This was it. He was reaching the end.

 

The man had a binder of some sort on his lap, paper sticking out all over the place with writing scribbled on them. Phil was too far away to make out what they said. He closed the door behind him.

 

“What’s this..?” Was all he managed, stepping in a few paces and sitting at the foot of the bed in the spare chair. Dan cleared his throat; raspy and unused.

 

“I’m getting my final wishes in order.”

 

Phil knew what it was for. He knew it. The moment he laid eyes on the man, he knew. He only asked to be sure. To get a confirmation. Because, deep down, he didn’t want to believe it. Even after Dan said it out loud, he still didn’t want to believe it. He nodded, solemnly. 

 

“How can I help?”

 

Dan flickered his eyes to the man sitting beside him, and the man cleared his throat this time. “He would like you to be the last person to see him, and for you to escort him out after he’s passed,” the man read directly off of one of the seemingly hundreds of papers in his little binder. Phil’s heart tightened in his chest.

 

“He would like to be buried in something comfortable—“

 

Dan cut him off.

 

“Don’t you dare let my parents bury me in a stuffy fucking suit. Bury me in a hoodie or something.”

 

Phil chuckled, looking down at the floor for a moment so Dan wouldn’t have to see the tears in his eyes. He was laughing at all this, because, how could he not? He was planning his own fucking funeral. His own burial. Only Dan could find humor in something like that. 

 

“Is that all?” 

 

The man nodded and stood, checking over his papers. “I’ll review it with you soon, Mr. Howell, but I believe that was all.” He said, offering a considerate smile before walking out of the room after Dan answered with a quiet little ‘thank you’.

 

Phil didn’t hesitate to climb out of the chair and into the bed with Dan. That’s all he wanted at this very moment, just to be with him. He didn’t know how many moments he had like this left.

 

“Are you okay?” Dan asked, quietly once again, his voice low and sluggish. It was still distinctly his, his beautiful, honey-smooth voice. Just, a little more, raspy. 

 

Phil shook his head and kept his gaze down at the blanket, his smile diminishing quickly, lip trembling involuntarily. “No,” he croaked, breaking, finally. He was finally allowing himself to cry. “No, I’m not okay.”

 

Dan watched him heave over and sob into himself, letting him get it out, his arm tiredly reaching up and smoothing over his back. 

 

He figured this would happen sometime. It was only a matter of time. 

 

Dan was rather calm with this whole thing. He had finally accepted it, this horrible fate he was dealt. He accepted that he was to die, and that this was just part of the process. He cherished every moment he kept his heart beating now, every waking second. Even now, as he tried to comfort his crying boyfriend. He cherished this, too.

 

“I asked to be buried at Hilltop Cemetery, because it’s so close to here. I didn’t want to be far away,” He cleared his throat again, “I wanted you to be able to visit me. To see me whenever you wanted, to talk to me.”

 

That only made Phil cry harder. “This is fucked up, Dan!” He cried, his voice ricocheting off of the walls. “You shouldn’t have to do this!  _ We  _ shouldn’t have to do this! I don’t  _ want  _ to talk to you through a headstone at a cemetery!”

 

“I know,” Dan said, calmly, his hand kneading into Phil’s back a bit harder now. “I know it’s fucked up, Phil. It’s not fair.” He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs. “C’mere.”

 

He beckoned Phil to come down with him, to lay with him. So he could stare at him without having to strain his eyes looking up. He honestly just wanted to look at him, to stop talking completely and just, look at him. Remember the little lines around his eyes and the dips in his light pink lips and the blue in his eyes.

 

Phil laid down, facing him, slowly, sniffling. He was beginning to calm himself down, laying on his side. A few tears dripped down his nose, plopping onto the sheets and making a damp spot.

 

Dan took another deep breath before he opened his mouth to speak again, a few minutes later. “Remember what I told you about burying me in a hoodie?”

 

Phil nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was still strained, he stuttered out the first part of the word.

 

“Could I be buried in that hoodie of yours? The one you gave me, when I told you I was cold, and you let me wear it to sleep?” He asked. “Would you mind?”

 

Phil could feel the upset bubbling up in him again, filling his eyes and making his chest heavy and painful. He could barely stand it. “Absolutely,” He whispered. If his voice was any louder, it would’ve come out as a weep. “I don’t mind at all.”

 

Dan perked his lips into a little smile, scooting closer to him and tucking himself into Phil’s chest. “Thank you,” He whispered, loosely draping his arms around him. “Stay with me, for tonight?”

 

Phil nodded and pushed his shoes off with the tips of his feet, listening to them fall off of the bed with a soft thud. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you let me.” He turned his head to dot kisses across the side of Dan’s face, his chest growing heavy again.

 

Phil wished he could pause time and permanently hold Dan like this, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr (I changed my url!): @galactichan


	7. Chapter 7

The morning Dan Howell died was not like how Phil imagined it would be.

 

It wasn’t rainy or grey, and the clouds didn’t hang low like they did in the movies when the main character you’ve grown so desperately attached to dies. 

 

The morning Dan Howell died was perfect. The birds chirped outside on their branches, and the sunshine streamed in through the windows. The world was warm, and inviting, and beautiful, and the breeze softly whispered through lace curtains on windows.

 

That was the part that infuriated Phil the most. How  _ dare _ the universe not mourn, how dare the universe laugh in his face and present him with the most beautiful, most perfect summer morning? 

 

It was a perfectly normal morning, and Phil hated everything about it.

 

But perhaps that was Dan’s final little gift to Phil; the absolute essence of all that he was, everything unique and special and beautiful about him; everything Phil positively adored about every part of him: this one, gorgeously perfect, pink-sky morning.

 

Phil received the call at 7:41am. He’d just woken up, gotten dressed, and was in the middle of grabbing his coffee when his phone rang. 

 

There was a part of him that knew exactly what it was. A part of him that knew it was coming, that expected it. But the other part of him couldn’t believe it. Refused to. The shock that came with it was unbearable.

 

He wept on the way to the hospice facility. He gripped his steering wheel and tried desperately to will Dan back, thought that maybe if he focused hard enough on it, if he wanted it hard enough, he’d get another phone call. They’d say that Dan was alive, that his cancer was miraculously gone, and that he was okay.

 

Phil practically jumped out of his car once he pulled into his parking spot, slamming the door loudly and running into the building, sprinting down the hallway to Dan’s room. He could’ve gotten there with his eyes closed. He probably knew the route better than Dan did.

 

There were a few nurses outside of his room, keeping watch, making sure that no one that shouldn’t be there got in. Once they saw him, however, they eagerly parted to let him through.

 

He was left with Dan, alone. 

 

Phil stopped once he saw him. His head was laid on the pillow, hands relaxed on either side of his blanket. He didn’t look dead. He looked like Dan.

 

He sat down in the chair next to the bed, scooting it closer to him, taking his hand in his. 

 

It was cold, and pale, but other than that, it was Dan. It was smooth, and it still felt like  _ him.  _ Still felt like it would squeeze Phil’s hand back and be accompanied with a wide smile and a breathy  _ ‘I love you’ _ .

 

Phil moved his free hand up to Dan’s face, running his fingers through his hair.

 

He looked peaceful. Like he was in the middle of a dream, getting ready to wake up the moment Phil called his name.

 

Phil could’ve screamed. Loudly. For everyone to hear. Ripped it right from his chest and threw it out into the room, slamming it against the wall and tearing it apart. Tearing it apart like this whole thing was tearing  _ him _ apart.

 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dan’s forehead, lifting his hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He set Dan’s hand back down in his lap, walking back out and keeping the urge to scream down for now. 

 

It took until the last look from the doorframe for Phil to realize that Dan was wearing his hoodie. The hoodie that he requested to be buried in. 

 

The one he wore one night when he was cold, his fingertips like ice, and after Phil pulled his hands through the sleeves and put the hood down, he kissed him, deeply. Dan’s hair was messed up, but he didn’t care; he kissed him deeply, delicately, Dan’s lips tasting of the strawberry chapstick he’d applied earlier.

 

And now, now Phil would never kiss him again. The thought nearly made him drive his fist into the wall beside him. 

 

A few nurses came in and out of the room, exchanging sympathetic glances with him, but not saying a word. Phil appreciated it, actually; he would rather stand or sit against the wall and be left alone. He didn’t want to hear anyone tell him it would be okay, because right now, he didn’t want to be okay. This wasn’t okay, and maybe one day it would be okay and he’d be okay, but not right now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. He wanted to not be okay for a while.

 

Phil wasn’t sure how to go on after this. How could he? His whole life revolved around seeing Dan; besides it being his job, Dan was his boyfriend, his partner. Someone he loved. And now there was nothing.

 

There was only Dan, and after Dan. And Phil despised living in the latter with every fiber of his whole being. 

 

He watched as a team of four nurses wheeled Dan out on a stretcher, the blanket now off of him. He walked behind it, behind where Dan’s head was, his eyes fixed down on him.

 

His curls were draped down on his forehead, and his skin didn’t look like it was cold. It still looked like he was still alive, still warm and full of life. His hands still looked like they wanted to grab at Phil’s chest and pull his shirt off after a giggly make out session.

 

He walked out into the sunshine, pacing slowly to the coroner's vehicle. The coroner, a solemn man with thinning light brown hair, took the stretcher and loaded it in the back of his ambulance-like vehicle, closing the doors once it was all the way in. 

 

Phil stayed in the parking lot, even after all of the other nurses had gone back inside. He watched the coroner drive away, his eyes following it until it was out of view. Even then, he stood in the lot until he felt that Dan was out of a five mile radius. 

 

He passed by Dan’s room once he found his way back inside, the door slightly ajar. He pushed it, peeking inside for one last look.

 

The bed was made, the blanket folded back in place, sunshine streaming through the windows and illuminating the pillows and the bed frame. 

 

For a fleeting, single moment, Phil swore he heard Dan call his name, half laughing. A sweet, breathy,  _ ‘C’mere, Phil’ _ that would’ve been accompanied with a kiss and a smile.

 

Phil took a walk that night.

 

He walked the facility’s trail, the one he and Dan used to walk all the time, his hands stuck in his pockets. He came upon the spot they used to lay down on, and look up at the sky to hunt for constellations Dan knew way too much about.

 

Phil laid down in the grass, eyes fixed up at the very stars that helped him fall in love with Dan in the first place. 

 

He stared up at the stars, hands behind his head, and swore they never looked brighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading.
> 
> I genuinely hoped you found it as moving while reading it as I did while writing it.
> 
> Stay tuned for any new fic I may post in the near future ;>
> 
> For now, say hi to me on tumblr! @galactichan


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